Sylar Has an OffDay
by Caness
Summary: SylarMohinder. A little fluffy.. or as fluffy as this pairing can get... OneShot.


Sylar feels a little more like Gabriel every day he's with Mohinder. He reminds Sylar too much of the late Dr. Suresh. 

"Do you not find it strange, Zane, that ever since we have been working together Sylar has killed three of the four people we have met with?" the Indian professor asked one day. No, he hadn't killed Matt Parkman, and yes, he was feeling like a bit of a failure. He tried to convince himself that the ex-cop had just been too clever. The truth was he hadn't wanted to kill the telepath. Didn't he have enough headaches already from heard-everything lady?

But that wasn't why. O-no. Was he going soft? Not bloody likely. It was more like Mohinder warped his perceptions; his desires were suddenly focused in a completely different place.

"Well, if he were following us, the fact that he didn't kill Mr. Parkman is at least a comfort, right?" 'Zane' smiled in a coy way he hoped was both reassuring and, ok yes, a bit sexy. He didn't consider himself an overtly sexual person. Or at least he hadn't until he met Mohinder Suresh. This guy was just all sorts of bad for his hormones. "I mean, don't you think he's lost us?" Mohinder looked to be deep in thought. Sylar enjoyed these moments best because they allowed for optimal ogling without the doctor catching on. Suddenly those smoky eyes met his, and his hypothesis was blown right out of the water. Mohinder noticed.

"What is it, Zane?" Sylar found it sort of funny that the geneticist had to say his name every time he asked a question. Well, not _his_ name. Sylar was suddenly feeling jumpy. He didn't get nervous! Only… he was. He looked away quickly.

"I was just thinking that… I hope…" he looked as far away from Mohinder as possible, blushing a little bit for effect (of course it was just an act!). He refocused on the scientist's face. "I hope you know you can trust me." His face was all open-lines and innocence. Mohinder smiled warmly, clapped him on the shoulder.

"I know I can, Zane." Mohinder's large palm lingered, and for a moment he considered making a grab for it, but it would simply be too forward. What happened to taking what he wanted? Carpe diem? Sylar sighed. He wouldn't be absolutely couldn't be Gabriel Gray again. That flimsy loser who did anything his father asked. Sylar was strong; he deserved whatever he could get--not just what was handed to him. When Sylar snapped out of his little mental rant, Mohinder looked alarmed. A small crash registered in Sylar's mind; a pot had fallen off a shelf behind Mohinder's head. Sylar's heartbeat was loud and thundery in his head, and he lounged forward, taking Mohinder's lips soundly.

If at all possible, the scientist's eyes widened even further, and for long moments they were frozen, liplocked. Slowly, Mohinder's lips began to move against his, and his dark eyelids fluttered closed as he capitulated to sensation. Sylar grinned into the kiss as finally, blessedly, the only sounds were flesh and clothing.

Mohinder pulled him forcibly against himself, and Sylar could feel the growing hardness between them. He hummed contentedly as their erections bumped, grinding into the taller man's hip as he brought his arms up to clutch at Mohinder's collar. Mohinder pulled back, looking winded and flushed. Sylar stared at him like a deer caught in headlights. Mohinder coughed.

"Is this not.." the rest of Dr. Suresh's words disappeared into Sylar's mouth as he was rather aggressively thrown against the far wall of their hotel room. Sylar bit at the other man's soft lips, creating friction with every plane of his body. Mohinder tore his lips away to moan, soft and low. Sylar palmed Mohinder's erection through his pants, rubbing with the heel of his hand and delighting in the noises it elicited.

"Will you scream for me?" Sylar whispered. That's all he needed anyway, were the screams. Mohinder's eyes were wide, but his expression was softer. He let out a little burst of air when Sylar's hand suddenly found its way into the Indian's pants. Mohinder's eyes rolled up and his hands braced the rest of his body so he could thrust away from the wall, into Sylar's fingers. But every time he tried, Sylar would deftly move his hand out of the way. He was letting out little pleading whimpers that sounded suspiciously like 'please.'

Sylar leaned forward to lick up the expanse of that long, chocolaty neck. The darker man just seemed to melt; putty in Sylar's hands. Then Sylar bit down, hard, right at the jugular, and there was the sound he was craving.

A painfully loud yelp tore through his head, and he chuckled lightly, dropping to his knees. Mohinder inhaled sharply as the pants and underthings were brought down around his ankles, successfully hobbling him. Sylar blew his warm breath across Mohinder's erection, making the man thrash and beg and make inhuman sounds of need. Sylar allowed himself some smugness. He was well and truly in control now.

He grabbed the thin, dark hips roughly, no doubt leaving bruises, but Mohinder only made more noise. And the more noise Mohinder made, the more empowered Sylar felt. Without warning, he swallowed Mohinder to the root. Mohinder cried out, the sound reverberating through Sylar's head, mouth, and dick all at once. He bobbed his head, watching Mohinder reach desperately about for something to grab hold of. Sylar smiled around his length.

Sylar brought one of his hands away from Mohinder's hip in order to nurse his own erection, while the other he moved down to clutch at the man's balls. The combined sensation brought Mohinder, screaming, right into climax, and Sylar swallowed gratefully, coming himself. That had been well worth the headache that would be coming along soon from all the screaming that had nearly split Sylar's head in two.

Sometimes he wasn't quite sure if he was Zane or Sylar or Gabriel, but all the time he had wanted Mohinder and now that he had him it was… Quite frankly, it was anticlimactic. Sylar didn't just have sex with people. He executed more control than that. Killing someone, now that was intimate. But there was something appealing about getting to know each piece of a person.. without chopping them up first.

He could get used to this—he would have to give Mohinder more of a reason to suspect him in the future.

And later that night, when they share a bed Sylar feels like this is where he belongs. It's eerie and wrong and Sylar shouldn't truly belong anywhere. He _belongs _in Matt Parkman's house, slicing into his brains. Instead he's sprawled out across Dr. Mohinder Suresh's sheets thinking about the way he says, "Let's do some more tests."


End file.
